And There You Are

With every baby, with every birth, with every new beginning, I have evolved. It is like a shedding of the Jordan before, and a metamorphosis into something new. More wisdom, more empathy, a deeper understanding of this world and more importantly of myself. It is not a beautiful, linear road. There are many twists and turns. It is being let-down by those you love, pulled too thin, overwhelm, brokenness, moves forward and marches back. It might look like locking yourself in the bathroom for a minute just to catch your breath. It might be thoughts of, “How much more of this can I take?” Only to get up the next morning to do it all again. It might be asking yourself time and time again, “Who is going to come save me?” To realize the answer lies deep within yourself, as brutal as that may be.

There is this pain that comes from being let down by the people you thought could never. Expectations that fall short. The reality that the vision for your life, for your children, for your family looks different than what you imagined. There is hurt in that. There is pain in that. 

There is fading of friendships that you never once questioned. Moments when you run into each other and don’t even say hello. You quietly mourn in your seat, careful not to make any sudden movements out of habit, like running to you for a hug. You consciously look the other way to prevent eye contact. Because what happens if we do? Does everything else fade away when your blue eyes meet my brown? I am mad about all of the things you don't know about me anymore, you used to know everything. You don't know that Hunter has the kindest soul. Or that Halle might kill me, but is strong, passionate, and going to change the world. Or that my last baby, Haiden, is truly the completion of all of us-our baby. You don’t know any of that. And what a loss that is. We just pass each other and pretend. But my heart won't forget you.

Something beautiful happens, too. Something bigger than the outside noise. Something that happens within yourself. You start to trust who you are. You trust your heart, your mind, your decisions. You realize that all of your feelings are real and valid, but they can’t change your circumstances. You can't change other people. You realize that the only thing you have control over is yourself. You can control how you show up for your husband, your children, for the people you value and who value you. You invest everything you have in the family you created. You slowly build new friendships. You care way less about your weight, your appearance, the act of having “it all together”. All of that feels superficial, fleeting, inauthentic. You stop wanting to be like everybody else and start loving who you are. You feel instead of suppress, you love the life in front of you, and don’t feel called to change it. You learn to accept what is. You see both sides to a situation, even if that means you played a part in the problem. You learn to live wide open, even with the risk of being hurt. You feel, reflect, evolve.

And 18 months after your last baby is born, you wake up on a beautiful fall morning and think to yourself…There You Are.

Xoxo,

Jordan